


Where'd You Go

by Amqersand



Category: So You Think You Can Dance RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-07-09
Updated: 2008-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amqersand/pseuds/Amqersand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story was entirely inspired by the Marksie 'Bleeding Love' lyrical hip-hop piece. It follows Mark and Chelsie as they struggle with a troubled marriage that seems doomed to fail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue | Ch.1 On My Broken Knees

**Author's Note:**

> This story is no longer being worked on and has simply been uploaded for archive purposes.

**Prologue**

  
Except for the kitchen lights the rest of the the apartment was dark. No one else was home after all. More often than not these days, Chelsie Kay Kanemura felt like she was the only one living there. Just like right then. Two places were set for dinner but she was the only one seated at the table. She had been reading while pointedly listening for the sound of keys jangling at the front door. Glancing at the clock hung over the kitchen entrance, she could see that there were only five more minutes before it would be eleven. Chelsie's empty stomach lurched, as it finally made it's needs known. It demanded dinner but the congealed gravy and cold mess laid out before her looked wholly unappetising and made her stomach lurch for an entirely different reason. Transferring the cold meals into Tupperware and then into the fridge, Chelsie made herself a bowl of cereal. Nothing like sugary goodness and marshmallow bits to make a person feel better, right?   
  
Except she didn't feel better at all. Sitting alone in the one lit room of a dark apartment and eating cereal was not how she'd imagined married life when she'd said 'I do' just a year ago. She banged her spoon on the table. No, this was not how she'd imagined it at all. Not when she and Mark had been so in love with each other. Though oblivious to it themselves they had been told by their now long time friend, Kourtni, that the two of them were so sweet on each other it gave  _others_  toothaches just watching them. That had been then, these days the couple rarely went out with their friends anymore. More accurately, the couple didn't go out or do anything together now. Every time Chelsie asked, Mark was busy. He was more in the office than out of it and when he was at home he locked himself in the office he'd converted their second bedroom into. Chelsie had always imagined that the room was going to be a nursery.  
  
While getting ready for bed, Chelsie thought about the events that had led up to all this and wondered if Mark hated her now. Splashing her face with cold water she stared at the reflection in the mirror. At twenty one years old, she was much too young to become a widow. She wasn't even losing him to something that made sense – like Warcraft. She just had to... reassure herself that things would be alright. She'd make dinner again tomorrow and it was Saturday so they'd eat together and then she'd take Mark out. They would have fun, just like they used to. Chelsie clutched the white porcelain basin so tightly that her knuckles matched it in colour.  
  
“Mark...” As she remembered what happened, she decided she hated fate. It had a seriously fucked up sense of humour.  
  
 _“Mark! Oh god, Mark!” Chelsie clutched at his arm while he lay bleeding right there on the street and a crowd started gathering._  
  
“Call an ambulance!” She screamed at all these foreign faces. What was WRONG with them? Just staring, couldn't they see he was dying _right in front of them? Tears were welling up in her eyes. This was supposed to be their honeymoon, this wasn't supposed to happen._  
  
Chelsie fumbled with her phone before she realized she didn't even know what the emergency number in this country was. She felt so stupid. Stupid and completely helpless. All she could do was cradle Mark's head in her arms.  
  
Sirens rang in the distance. Thank god. Thank god.  
  
“Chelsie...” Mark rasped out. “Chelsie, I love you.”  
  
And that had been the last time she'd heard him say it. They had been married for less than a week before it all fell apart. Chelsie felt wetness fall on porcelain knuckles. Oh... tears.

**Chapter One**

Mark pushed back his jacket sleeve to look down at his wristwatch. It was a bit past eleven and he realized he hadn't called Chelsie to tell her that he wouldn't be back for dinner. Well, she knew he was only a few more clients away from being top sales that month so it was important that he finish his reports. Or maybe she didn't know. He couldn't recall ever telling her about that. They hadn't spoken very much for a long while now.   
  
Their last conversation had been awkward, stilted. Chelsie had told him that she had gotten a job at a dance studio as a part-time Latin instructor and he had wanted to congratulate her, say he was proud of her and give her a hug. However, when he'd looked into her eyes, his words died in his throat. Her eyes had been lit up with an excitement he recognized. It was the same light they all got, 'they' being dancers, when they thought of dance and it was a light that had been lost to him. His hands had clenched into fists on their own and Chelsie noticed almost right away. She always saw everything he did. She was the person who knew him best in the whole world and yet, there was an immeasurable distance between them now.   
  
 _Chelsie's eyes had widened as soon as she'd seen his reflexive action and she looked down as though he'd slapped her but it was shame that coated her voice._  
  
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... remind you about...” Her hands were in her lap, bunching up her skirt and she would no longer meet his eyes. Her sentence trailed off but he could finish it. Remind you that you're useless now. Remind you that your legs are only barely good for walking and for a dancer that's like being still.  
  
It wasn't her fault that he was no good. That he was broken.. There was some small irrational jealousy there but more than jealousy, there was fear. Dance brought them together and what would happen to them now that he could no longer dance with her? Chelsie would realize sooner or later that she could do better and dance right out of his grasp.  
  
Mark's fists clenched in the present as though trying to hold onto something but if Chelsie wanted to leave him, he wouldn't fight it. He'd let her go and have the wonderful life she deserved without him weighing her down. ...At least that had been the idea but he knew that he didn't want to. He knew that part of him was hoping that if only he could get that promotion, please that client and make enough money, then she would stay with him.  
  
Stupid. He was so stupid.  
  
“Mark? You're still here?” A female voice interrupted his thoughts and made him look up to see who else would still be at the office at such a late hour. Standing there was, his direct superior within the company, Amber Wickham. She was young, just twenty-six but was something of a business prodigy. As an ex-dancer, the transition from stage and studio to the office had been a difficult one for Mark but Amber Wickham had seemed to have taken it upon herself to help Mark and had done so since he'd been hired.  
  
“Ms. Wickham,” He greeted. “I was just finishing up some reports. Tomorrow's Saturday so...”  
  
Amber smiled as she made her way up to his desk and idly leafed through the pages of the report.   
  
“You should go home, these could have waited.” Her eyes glanced down at his hand where a familiar gold wedding band shone and she reached out to tap it. “Your wife probably misses you.”  
  
When he bent his head to look down at his hand, he felt and heard rather than saw the woman move and when he looked up again, the woman was close. Too close. Before he knew it, her lips were on his.  
  


* * *

  
The door slammed.  
  
“I'm home.” Mark said as he entered the apartment even though he didn't expect a reply. Heading into the bedroom for a change of clothes, he saw Chelsie asleep. Her hair was a mess and she was half in and half out the covers, lying on her stomach. Changing into some more comfortable clothes, Mark watched Chelsie sleep for some moments before he reached over and gently tucked the blankets back around her properly. Kneeling at the bedside, he looked at her face and slowly leaned in until he was so close he could feel her soft breathing against his cheek. Then he pulled back. Standing up he picked up the briefcase he'd left by their bedroom door and padded into his office.   
  
He still had those reports to finish.


	2. My Heart's About to Burst

**Two Years Ago. Los Angeles.**  
Mark was reading. No, he was  _pretending_  to read. In a Starbucks. Usually he wouldn't be caught dead one of these evil establishments that were slowly taking over the world but this was where Chelsie had told him to meet her and he hadn't seen her for a whole week. He sighed as he read the same line in his book for what was probably the twentieth time since he'd sat down with his lemonade. That's right, he may have entered the McDonald's of coffee but that didn't mean he couldn't order from the salad menu... or something like that. Mark wasn't the best at analogies.  
  
Chelsie had been in New York for the past week, visiting Courtney Galiano who the two had befriended when they'd been on So You Think You Can Dance together. Mark had been hired to choreograph as well as dance in a music video in L.A. that week however and so he hadn't been able to visit along with his girlfriend. He smiled.  _Girlfriend_. Chelsie was his girlfriend now and he was still getting used to it. After the SYTYCD tour had ended, both of them had for some reason or another decided to stay in L.A. instead of going back home and both were ecstatic that the other was sticking around.  
  
He had never planned for them to get together. For one thing, Chelsie had said once that he was like a big brother to her and for another, he was significantly older than her. She was only nineteen whereas he was already twenty-four years old. His mother had been nagging him about finding a nice girl to settle down with and he figured that Chelsie's mum was probably worried about her 'baby' seeing anyone at all. It had always been in the back of his mind though that Chelsie was his perfect girl. Sure, she was a tomboy and slightly crazy at times but he'd always thought that that was what made Chelsie,  _Chelsie_.   
  
In the past, he'd dated girly girls and in Hawaii, there was no limit to the number of hot, bikini-clad summer vacationers looking for a fling but they all lacked something. There was no relaxing with them, just chilling and enjoying their company. With Chelsie, he had that in spades...  **AND**  she was hot in a bikini too. A stupid grin made it's way onto Mark's face as vivid imagery took over.  
  
That was when he felt a flat palm smack him over the back of his head.   
  
“Ow!” He exclaimed as he rubbed the point of contact and looked up from his seat to where Chelsie was standing there, with her hands on her hips.  
  
“Wipe that dopey smile off your face, people are going to think there's something wrong with your brain.”   
  
She had a smirk on her face but there was something in her eyes that said she'd meant for the hit to hurt a little. Her eyes darted just for a second in the direction he'd been staring blankly at during his imaginings but Mark noticed immediately and when he actually paid attention he realized what she thought he'd been smiling like a space cadet at. Over a little ways away, was the counter and behind it a rather cute barrista.  
  
Mark couldn't help but laugh out loud. Chelsie was so cute when she was jealous but trying not to show it. His laughter only made her smack him on the arm some more.  
  
“Ow! Hey... ow! Stop that... Chels, really! Stop!” He put up his arms in surrender and when that didn't stop her, he put his arms around her waist instead and pulled her in so that she was too close to effectively hit him anymore. He only let go when she stopped weakly slapping his back.  
  
“Always with the hitting, why are you so violent?”   
  
“You deserved it and I know you secretly love it, you masochist.” She gave him a light punch in the arm as though to prove her point before she flopped into a plush chair beside him.  
  
He laughed, pretended to rub his arm and just told her, “I missed you and she meant nothing to me.” A quick glance towards the counter and one of his famous eyebrow wiggles told her who he was jokingly referring to, letting her know that he had noticed.   
  
“Yeah? That better be the truth, Mister or I'm gonna kick your ass.” She said mock sternly before leaning in to peck him on the lips.   
  
“I missed you too.”  
  


* * *

  
That evening when Chelsie arrived home to the small flat she shared with a room mate who was conveniently not home, she couldn't help immediately flinging off her shoes, running into her room to bury her face in her pillow and squeal. Even though her roomie wasn't home, she couldn't risk her ultra cool image by being overheard being all  _girly_  over her  _boyfriend_. Sometimes she still couldn't quite believe that such a perfect guy was hers and all hers. Chelsie resisted the urge to squeal again.  
  
Mark had been his normal funny and charming self all afternoon but towards the end of their date he'd gotten fidgety and Chelsie  _always_  noticed when he got fidgety because when Mark tried to act calm when he wasn't, he was a total spaz. Which she found cute. He had brought up the fact that he was going to be visiting his parents in Hawaii towards the end of the year and they wanted to meet her!  
  
Now most girls would be really nervous about meeting their boyfriend's parents but Chelsie wasn't because she knew what it meant. Oh yes, and she'd decided a long time ago already that she was going to be Mrs. Kanemura so now she just had to convince his parents that she was the daughter-in-law of their dreams. Mark himself wasn't going to be a problem, she'd just beat him into submission. Subtly of course, so that he'd think it was his idea all along.


	3. I Am Still Dreaming

When Chelsie woke up that morning, the place beside her in the bed she shared with Mark was empty. She reached her hand over and ran it across the surface of their simple cotton sheets. It was cold, telling her that Mark had been gone for some time. That is, if he'd slept there at all the previous night. She took a deep breath, she didn't want to start the morning being weepy and emotional. She had plans for the day after all. Slipping into her fluffy blue Stitch slippers, she eyed them and thought that it was sad that even her  _slippers_  made her think about Mark. It used to be a routine of theirs that whenever Mark saw her with them on that he would tease her about her love for the adorable blue alien. The first time it had happened was the morning after her twentieth birthday.  
  
 _Chelsie had just woken up and her vision was still blurry as she rubbed her eyes. Then her bare arm brushed against something that made her gasp as she turned on her side only to be met by the sight of the most gorgeous man alive, fast asleep beside her. A full blush spread through her cheeks. The previous night had been her first time and it had been... indescribable. Reaching out she ran a finger lightly over Mark's defined cheek, smiling softly as she did so._  
  
“You're going to have to take responsibility.” She whispered dreamily and happily even though he couldn't hear.  
  
She got up and dug her feet into the cushy interior of her favourite slippers and that was when she heard a rumbling voice, deep from having just woken up, mumble,“Chelsie?”  
  
Her heart stopped when she saw those brown eyes now open and looking at her openly and with obvious appreciation. That was, until he reached her feet. The comment that followed started what would be their first ever pillow fight... in the buff.  
  
Chelsie wriggled her toes in slippers. She wanted more than anything to just go back in time so that she could wake up with Mark next to her again. At first when Mark had started to withdraw from her and everyone else, she thought it would just take time for him come back to them. She knew that losing dance was the most difficult thing Mark had ever gone through but she had thought that if she supported him and gave him time he would get better. Only he retreated further and further into himself and later immersed himself in his joyless job.  
  
A bitter feeling gripped at Chelsie's heart. His job, his stupid job. It was dumb to be jealous of his work but she was. She felt like she was competing with it and she was losing. It was hoping against hope but as the ruffled blonde shuffled through the bedroom door, she listened for the sound of clinking crockery, the boiling of water for tea or anything at all that indicated that Mark was simply in the kitchen preparing breakfast. However, all that met her ears was silence. A tremble ran through her body but she pushed back the feeling of despair creeping up on her. As calmly as she could, she checked all the other rooms of their small apartment.  
  
The kitchen first.  
  
The bathroom.  
  
Finally, she pushed open the door of the study. It was empty.   
  
It wasn't unexpected but it still hit her like a punch in the gut, knocking the air from her.   
  
 _“And do you take this woman as your wife, till death do you part?”_  
  
“I do.” Mark had said.  
  
“You liar.” Chelsie said now, slamming the door of the study closed and leaning against it. They were being ripped apart and neither of them were dead even if Mark acted as if he were.   
  
Enough was enough though. They were fixing their marriage even if it killed them, wallowing in self-pity had never been Chelsie's style. She was tough. Pulling her shoulders back she went marched into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Work wasn't going to be Mark's escape anymore. How did that song go again? I will follow you, follow you where ever you may go. Then something about no oceans too deep and mountains too high and yada yada, right? That was the plan.  
  


* * *

  
  
As soon as she stepped through the door, Chelsie nearly bumped right into a woman on her way out, in her haste to find Mark.   
  
“Can I help you?” The woman asked courteously.   
  
The slightly taller brunette she'd nearly knocked over obviously worked there and looked surprised to see the young woman enter. Chelsie figured that she hardly looked like a typical client of theirs. There was a definite contrast between the relaxed but still casually flattering outfit she was wearing and the sharply cut, dark business skirt and jacket of the other woman. She looked about Mark's age and a couple of years older than herself.  
  
“I'm here for Mark.” Chelsie knew she sounded rude but she wasn't in any mood to be patient.  
  
The other woman simply raised a brow, whether this was because of Chelsie's obviously personal reasons for looking for Mark or because she knew more than one 'Mark', the blonde could not say. Well, she could very well find her husband on her own and she was about to say so when the other woman spoke again.   
  
“He's in the office at the back. Why don't you follow me and I'll show you the way.”   
  
Chelsie made to follow and as she did, she thought she noticed the brunette look oddly at her hand. It was quick and she might have just been imagining things. Glancing down there was nothing unusual to see. Just her wedding band.  
  
“So, are you Mark's little sister?”  
  
The question was casual but Chelsie felt peeved.   
  
“I'm his  _wife_.”  
  
“Oh, isn't he lucky? Lovely to meet you, actually you could say I'm your husband's boss. I'm Amber. Wickham.”


	4. We Keep Running From the Pain

The day, she felt, had gone up and down. Mostly down. She had concluded that Amber Wickham was a B.I.T.C.H. also known as a ' _bitch_ ' to the uneducated. When she had gone to see Mark, the nosy woman had hovered there like any of it had been her business. She obviously did not know the meaning of  **privacy**. This made it impossible to bring up anything personal with Mark which in turn made it very hard to convince him to ditch his pile of papers and go out with her. The, in her eyes, feeble arguments were probably the most words he'd spoken to her all week. Eventually though, Chelsie's persistence prevails and they leave the desks and paperwork behind.  
  
That was about the only triumph she had the entire day. Even though Mark was physically with her, he just wasn't with her. When she asked him where he wanted to go, he had simply asked why she'd pulled him from work if she didn't have anywhere to go. When she'd taken him down to a street that was littered with thrift and antique shops which they used to love to spend the day exploring together and linked hands with him, she felt him grow stiff and his fingers remained loose and cold. He felt artificial and unreal to her. Who was this man and what had he done to the one she'd married?  
  
At the Salvation Army store, she'd tried on weird outfits and struck goofy poses but all he did was smile politely at her and examine the hat rack. Like a stranger. He used to laugh. Hell, he used to be the one that started it.   
  
At the second hand book store she held up cheesy old romance novels, yellowed with age, depicting pictures of muscular flaxen haired men and wilting damsels in distress and ranted about how they were chauvinistic and unrealistic. When she used to do this, Mark used to nod in amusement and then buy them when her back was turned, only to place them around her flat where she was sure to find them. To see her face, he'd said. Just for fun. Today though he hadn't left with a single book. Chelsie knew this because she'd kept her eyes on him the whole time.  
  
The only thing that lifted her spirits somewhat was the fact that they had fought when they'd gotten home. That may sound odd but the explanation was actually quite simple. Chelsie was just happy to see Mark show her some sort of emotion. There's a saying that indifference is even worse than hate because at least with hate, the other person was feeling something. With indifference the person felt nothing. Besides that, it was a thin line between love and hate. Chelsie could work with that.  
  
 _The door slammed shut and Chelsie stalked into their living room before whirling around to glare at Mark. She had done everything to make the day fun and Mark had done exactly nothing in response which made it an absolute flop._  
  
“Don't you DARE go into your office right now.”  
  
Mark actually looked surprised. As if wondering how she had anticipated exactly what he was going to do. He shouldn't have been surprised though, Chelsie fumed. That's where he always went so of course she knew.  
  
“Chelsie, what's gotten into you? Did you forget that you dragged me out of work today? I need to go there to finish what SHOULD have been done this afternoon.”  
  
“What's gotten into me _? What's gotten into_ you _? In case you forgot, I'm your wife and when I took that job, I sort of thought that meant I get to see you more not less!”_  
  
Mark sighed. “Don't be childish.”  
  
She looked at him incredulously. “Childish? Because I want to see you? I'm childish because I miss you and because I finally got tired of waiting for you to get better?I'm sorry Mark, I know losing dance was hard for you but you're losing me and it's not an accident this time. It's all YOU.”  
  
There. It was out. Mark looked like he'd been slapped.  
  
He'd shouted at her then. Told her that he knew that it had been coming, predicted that she'd leave him because of his leg and she was proving him right because no matter how hard he tried he'd always just be a washed up dancer in her eyes. Mark Kanemura the dancer was gone, he'd yelled at her.  
  
Chelsie had yelled back that she knew that.  
  
 _“The one that has a problem accepting that isn't me, it's you!”_  
  
Mark had looked stunned before his face twisted once more into an unreadable expression and he turned on his heel and marched out the door, slamming it shut as he left for god knew where. So now ten minutes had passed but Chelsie still stood in that spot. Mark was going to come back, wasn't he?


	5. We're All Dumb and Jaded

The look on Will B. Wingfield's face when Mark had shown up on his doorstep had first been surprise which shifted to curiosity before he could stop it. When Chelsie and Mark had decided to stay in Los Angeles after the So You Think You Can Dance competition and tour, Will had been there to show them around and play tour guide since he'd stayed in L.A. during his time studying at the Debbie Allen Dance Academy. In that time the three of them had become even closer friends and would frequently hang out together.  
  
In fact they had gotten close enough that Will had even been invited to the wedding. This meant of course that he'd witnessed first hand the before and after affect the accident had had on the couple. Though he knew of course, that the biggest victim of that had been Mark and closely behind him, Chelsie, Will also felt himself a victim because he had lost two good friends because of it. While he still occasionally saw Chelsie either because she made an effort to keep in touch or because the two of them would sometimes run into each other in the dance world, they lost the closeness they had managed to foster during their early stay in L.A. Which is why Will was so shocked to see Mark there when he'd opened the door.  
  
“Mark! What are you doing here?” Yes, so shocked that he forgot about politeness and just blurted out exactly what he wanted to ask. Will Wingfield though, was good at recovering.  
  
“I mean, please come in.” Mark did so without answering the other man's question but Will could see he had something to say.  
  
“Do you want something to drink? Water? Um... well, it's that or coffee.” He was aware that Mark wasn't a fan of coffee but it felt a little stingy to offer only H2O. Will wished he hadn't put off that grocery run now because he knew fruit juice was on his shopping list.  
  
“Water is fine.” Mark took a seat on the couch in the living room where Will gestured, while the other man went to the icebox for a bottle of water. One for himself and one for his guest.  
  
Once the two were comfortably – or uncomfortably, depending on your point of view – seated, there was silence for a good length of time before Will just couldn't take it. While the suspense over the question of why Mark was there was killing him, it was the silence that was the torture. As was his nature when he was nervous, Will talked. He talked a lot.  
  
“So Mark, it's been awhile. What have you been up to, man? You know, I have a new show in production right now so I'm off on the road again once the producers and directors work out the kinks, I asked Chelsie if she wanted tickets but she didn't seem sure. Something about your schedule, I think.”  
  
He didn't even seem to need a breath, “Oh yeah, you're probably wondering when I saw her, it was about a week ago actually. Ran into her at the studio, I was introducing a friend's kid to a teacher there.”  
  
Will looked at Mark for a response but when it didn't look like he was going to get one, he opened his mouth to continue only to be interrupted by Mark's quiet voice.  
  
“I think Chelsie and I are done.”  
  
“Done with what?” Blurted Will. It wasn't that he didn't understand English or even what was being said. It was just that it was so insane and out of the blue that it was quite unbelievable that Mark meant what had just come out of his mouth. Surely, this was a turn of phrase that could be labelled a 'Markism' and meant something totally different in the English language. He obviously needed a Markese to English dictionary.  
  
“Us. Mark and Chelsie. Together.” His tone was clipped and robotic, Will was dismayed to hear. This was a dramatic change from the guy he used to know. That Mark had always been a character even when he hadn't been in character. This man was like... a cardboard cut out of the Mark Kanemura he had known. Flat and lifeless. A mimic at best.  
  
“ _What?_ ” Yes, he was sounding a little repetitive at this point but trying to wrap his mind around Mark and Chelsie not being together was like trying to wrap his mind around... around... Katee and Kherington as a couple.  
  
“WHY?” It didn't make sense and Will liked things to make sense which meant getting explanations for the seemingly inexplicable. He knew Mark and Chelsie had been having problems but he'd assumed that they would work through it. From the outsider's perspective, it had just seemed like they were no longer acting like newly weds and while it had happened to them earlier than most couples, it wasn't exactly something new. Most marriages survived fine without all the lovey-dovey behaviour, hand-holding and overall generally lovesick behaviour.  
  
For an answer however, all he got was a shrug. Will sighed exasperatedly. It was obvious to him that Mark wanted to talk about it or he wouldn't have come all this way. The problem was that Mark didn't realize he wanted to talk about it which meant he'd have to drag it out of him.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“We had a fight.”  
  
Will blinked. That was it? They had a fight?  
  
“That... that isn't even a reason!”  
He saw Mark's jaw clench and decided to push it before the other man could close himself up completely again. He knew he'd get nowhere then.  
  
“You don't love Chelsie anymore? Do you hate her?”  
  
Immediately he felt Mark react beside him. He'd stiffened up and the plastic water bottle he was holding made a cracking sound when his hand closed around it tightly.  
  
“Of course I do... of course I don't!” Mark looked confused at his own answer for a moment before clarifying, “Of course I love Chelsie and I could never hate her. Never.”  
  
If his face had been cold before, it ignited just then. It was just what Will wanted to see, now he had to fan the flames before the spark died because getting Mark riled up never worked the same way twice.  
  
“Oh, I just thought it was because Chelsie was giving you a hard time for not being able to dance. She does strike me as the pushy type, you know?”  
  
“No, Chelsie... she...” Mark trailed off, “She's been... perfect.” It was as though in defending her, he just realized it himself. Chelsie had never had a problem with him being unable to dance and Chelsie had never rushed him to 'get on with it' while he'd been trying to get over the loss of his life's passion. It had never been an issue for her at all. He'd messed up now though, he'd taken his frustration and resentment out on her that day and before that all he had been doing was pushing her away. Their outing had probably been Chelsie's last ditch effort to save him... them and he'd ruined it.  
  
“It's me. I've ruined everything.” Mark professed.


	6. Maybe You Had Her, Maybe You Lost Her

**One year ago. Bumrungrad International Hospital, Thailand.**  
It was hard to open his eyes and his head hurt. It felt as though a jack hammer was repeatedly slamming itself against the inside of his skull. Throughout all that though, he thought he could hear someone calling out to him. The voice was familiar and the more he focused on it, the more he could distract himself from the pain thundering in his head.  
  
It was soft at first but he was sure that he could hear his name. If his eyes weren't closed at that very moment, he would have squinted in concentration to follow that voice.  _Mark... Mark..._  
  
“Mark, please be okay.” When Mark Kanemura opened his eyes, it wasn't just his head that hurt. He was assailed by pain just then. His whole right side fairly burned from it and he gasped as the sensations hit him. He wasn't the only one who gasped because another, coming from beside him soon followed.  
  
“You're awake!” The voice was ecstatic and rang out loud enough to make him wince. Seeing this, the words that followed were softly but no less glad.   
  
“You had me worried... you jerk.”   
  
The insult came out more like an endearment and Mark smiled in spite of it or maybe because of it. Trust Chelsie to make an insult sound like the sweetest thing ever. Of course, his opinion was extremely biased. He gave her hand a pat with his left hand. His other, he'd just discovered had been rendered practically immobile by the cast that was on his arm. Not that he had any plans to move it since even trying to flex a muscle on that side sent a searing burning sensation all across his right side. No, he wouldn't be attempting that again any time soon.  
  
Chelsie had noticed his grimace even though he'd tried to hide it and made to get up.  
  
“I should let the doctor know you're awake.”   
  
When she got up, Mark noticed how dishevelled she looked. Her clothes were wrinkled and had what looked like coffee or tea stains on them. Her face was completely clean of make up and he could see bags forming under her eyes.  
  
“Chelsie... have you slept at all?”  
  
At his question and under his scrutiny, Chelsie self-consciously tried to smooth down her shirt with one hand while the other ran through her tangled blonde hair.   
  
“I slept.” She said in her usual off-handed way.  
  
“Which in Chelsie-speak means that you passed out from exhaustion even after dosing yourself with so much caffeine that it would have killed a lesser being, am I right?”  
  
Chelsie switched tactics, “All for your sake, Mister. So show some appreciation instead of sounding like my mom, okay? Now stay put, I'll be right back.”   
  
She gave him a kiss on his cheek on her way out, careful to avoid a rather vivid purple bruise and a cut that luckily wasn't going to scar. Mark hadn't been able to tell just from looking at her how worried she'd been the night before but the relieved glance she cast him at the last second just before she left through the door gave him some idea.  
  


* * *

  
The news had been a shock to him. While the doctor had tried to sound optimistic, there was no mistaking what it meant for his dance career. He'd thought that it was a broken bone or two, maybe a bruised muscle but nothing that would keep him down for long. Instead the doctor was talking about going through physical therapy so he could walk properly again. He was talking about months of rehabilitation... and he was speaking  _optimistically_. He was saying that if he was lucky he'd probably end up with a limp that was not too noticeable.   
  
Mark's spirit caught up with his body and shattered.  
  


* * *

  
When it came time to disembark the plane on their return home to the states, Mark had progressed to using crutches and no longer needed a wheelchair. At the hospital, they had been amazed at his rapid progress. Mark had tackled the physical therapy lessons with an intense fervour that came from him being desperate to prove the doctors wrong when they told him it was likely he would have to retire from a career in dance. Now as they marvelled at the progress he'd made in such a short time, he was screaming on the inside over each time his knee refused bend enough or when it hurt like a mother fucker trying to extend his leg only as far as any amateur dancer could have and of course the fact that he couldn't even stand on his own at the moment.  
  
“Mark, let me carry that.” Chelsie said while reaching over for his carry on which was slung over his shoulder and slightly unbalancing him on his crutch. He pulled away with a sharp jerk.  
  
“I can do it myself.” He snapped loud enough that some people paused to stare at the couple.   
  
“I just wanted to help.” Chelsie frowned but didn't say anything more.  
  
“I'm not a invalid, Chels.”  
  
“I never said you were.”  
  
“Whatever.” He shouldered the backpack more securely and made his way down the aisle, not looking back to see if his wife was following. After all, he thought bitterly, it wasn't like she couldn't keep up.


	7. Shun the non-believer, shuuuuuuN (crack non-ending)

After Mark's talk with the wonderful Will, everything became crystal clear! He knew what he had to do to win Chelsie back, he needed to stop being the tin man and get a heart. Or he had to be like the tin man and go see the wizard. Yes, obviously that was what he had to do but the question was, where was the wizard?  
  
Oh where, oh where is the wizard? The wonderful wizard of Oz?  
  
Will, the wonderful came to his rescue once again by telling him about the yellow brick road.  
  
We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz!  
  
Mark hugged Will for being so awesome and skipped off singing that he was off to see the wizard. Of course things are never that easy for there was a wicked b.i.t.c.h. of the west who was bent on never seeing Mark and Toto... I mean, Chelsie, reunite. She had an army of flying... flaming gay men at her call. So as Mark rolled along the yellow road on a skateboard he'd highjacked from a eight year old (since he didn't have a heart yet) he was tackled by a burly gay man named Tiffany.   
  
Tiffany offered raunchy gay fun and free girly drinks with umbrellas in them. Mark was tempted by the drinks but since Tiffany was really hairy and didn't look good in a skirt, he had to pass. Amber of the west was not happy that her flaming gay man had failed his task. Feeding Tiffany to her many man-eating gerbils, she was forced to come up with a plan B. Unfortunately as she was pacing about trying to think up this plan, she fell into a plot hole and ded'd.   
  
Mark, no longer being impeded by gay men or ugly b.i.t.c.h.e.s. skipped merrily along until he reached a big castle. Inside lived the wizard of Oz, except he preferred to be called Nigel. The Oz man told Mark he had to pass a test before he could be given a heart which he could then use to love Chelsie again. The task put forth by Nigel was to face down a fearsome beast that lived in Nigel's walk in closet.   
  
Armed with only a pair of glittery shoes that he was told would distract the creature enough for him to escape if it was necessary, Mark opened to the closet... and was nearly deafened by an inhuman screech. TAMALETRAINYESYOUAREYOUAREYOUARE!! Mark clutched the sparkly shoes tightly, he could not give up! With a mighty roar of his own he attacked, grabbing some nearby (for some reason) ninja stars and a rubber chicken he subdued the Mary-monster.   
  
Triumphant, he returned to the wizard to collect his prize but instead of a heart, he was given a ticket to a place called VEAGS. There, he was told was a machine that could give him a heart. So with that in mind, Mark flew to VEAGS where he found the machine. He entered it and pressed the BIG RED BUTTON.   
  
BOOM!  
  
Mark woke up startled. That was the strangest dream ever. He looked beside him and saw his wife sleeping peacefully and calmed down. There was no way he'd ever give up on Chelsie even if he lost dance. What a silly dream. He looked outside to see the sun rising, heralding a beautiful morning. It was the second day of their honeymoon and he knew their future would be as bright as this new day was.


End file.
